


Undressing The Commander

by ShannaraIsles



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Deliberately Vague Inquisitor, F/M, Sexy Times, Smut was requested, Teasing, Tumblr Prompt, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 07:51:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12812991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShannaraIsles/pseuds/ShannaraIsles
Summary: Undressing the commander can be a lot of fun.





	Undressing The Commander

**Author's Note:**

> @mypreciousdao2i4cargo on tumblr made a request for some smutty de-armoring of the commander after a minor discussion on how long it might take to get him out of his plate. And here it is!

The soft _flump_ of the last of her clothes falling to the floor drew silence around them. Cullen swallowed, whiskey-bright eyes trailing over the smooth skin on display before him, drinking in every soft curve, every hint of toned muscle, every shadow and valley and flush of pink from the lips still swollen from his kisses to the enticingly luscious promises concealed by the curls at the apex of her thighs. _Maker’s breath …_ And he was still wearing too much. _Far_ too much.

The predatory quirk of her smile quickened his breath as she stepped toward him, too much temptation just within reach, yet as he reached for her, she stilled, a warning chuckle on her lips.

“Uh-uh. My turn.”

He gulped, heat pouring over his skin, brightening the sallow paleness of his complexion to a longing, lustful flush that burned even his ears. His hands fell to his sides, a show of obedience he wasn’t sure he could maintain for long. But for her, he would try. 

He was rewarded with the sinuous step of her body closer to his own, with the gentle tug of her fingers in his hair pulling him down into another of those languid, teasing kisses that set fires in places no good templar should ever allow to burn for temptations like this. _Ex-templar_. The thought made him grin into her, the scar on his lip pulling taut as his gloved hands found a place to rest at her bare hips, stroking her skin through supple leather as she breathed him in, as her fingers traveled between them to pull open the first buckle that held his sword belt tight about the wrap of his mantle. He barely felt it come undone, wrapped as it was over the protective plate that covered his chest and stomach, but he _heard_ the clatter as she tossed it to one side, sparing a brief wince for the poor treatment of the sword still in the sheath.

She laughed her husky laugh at that wince, filling his mouth with the taste of her breath, hands already peeling fur and cloth from over the solid barrier of cool metal that separated them. His hands flexed at her hips, reluctant to release that touch even for the moment necessary to shrug the mantle away, yet for her, for the temptation she presented, the promise of more than teasing kisses and the need to be gentle or crush her against his armor … yes, for all that and more, he did as she silently requested. 

Gentle teeth nipped at his lower lip as she purred his name, her body twisting against the near-hateful wall that was his breastplate between them, raising his left arm to turn her attention to the brace on that forearm. Two buckles, one at the wrist, one higher, and the metal piece was allowed to fall onto the cushion of her discarded clothing at their feet. His breath staggered, already enchanted, enthralled, neck craning forward to draw the suggestion of his own teeth against the delicate curve of her ear as she teased her fingers higher to remove the pauldron at his left shoulder. Even distracted as she was, with warm wet breath stroking her skin and his right hand kneading at the rounded swell of her rear, the pauldron came free, his left hand falling to cup the soft leather of his gloved palm about one rose-tipped breast.

She slapped his hand away with a low giggle, tsking under her breath as she twisted to face him once again, gasping at the press of cool metal to the sensitive ache of firm nipples as he grinned back at her. 

“I’m not done yet,” she murmured through a wicked smile, another laugh smothered by an eager kiss as he dragged her close, right hand dragging the left glove from his fingers to finally touch her, skin to skin, to feel the warm give of her flesh beneath his caress. 

“You’re taking too long,” he breathed against her lips, but his only answer was another soft nip of her teeth to his lip, another quiet reminder that this was _her_ time to play at undressing the commander. 

“Patience is a virtue,” she teased with what he considered inappropriate mischief.

Yet he allowed her to draw back just a little, to turn and release his right arm from brace and pauldron, to peel the glove from his hand and allow the warmth of his fingertips to brush over the sweet curve of her back as his lips found hers. Her kisses were languid fire, quenching sweetness, wicked promises wrapped up in loving tenderness; a distraction too much to resist. In truth, he didn’t _want_ to resist, giving himself over to the sensual play of her lips, her tongue, her teeth … gasping in surprise at the sensation of both breast and back plates coming loose on his left side at waist and shoulder. It was a matter of mere moments to draw back and drag both plates free, wriggling his right arm through the pinching aperture, bending just far enough to set the crafted pieces down safely on the softer embrace of his own mantle. 

Then he was rising again, catching her into his arms, bearing her back until she was pressed against the velvet hang of tapestry against the stone wall, lips eager, hungry for more, hands rising to drag the padded quilting of his gambeson up and over his head, the softer linen of his shirt coming away with it, and finally, _blessedly_ , gathering her close, feeling the tender press of her bare skin against his own, her softness as much soothing to his ragged nerve as it was enticing to his desires. His hands were just as eager, drawing his touch over her with more impatience than finesse, fingers gripping her hip, her thigh, pressing into her back, diving into her hair to cup her neck and tilt her back, hungry to taste her as deeply as she would allow. Her nails scraped through the tousled fall of his own hair, her palm pressed over his shoulder; he felt her breath hitch in her throat as his thigh pressed gently between hers, teasing the secrets hidden at her core.

Breath tangled, mingled, each one tasting of the other, words lost in the stuttering need for air until finally she found the means to claim her place again. The soft hands he was so enamored of slithered to his chest, pressing against the toned muscle he was proud to still maintain. Reluctance warred with natural respect, a compromise reached with the breaking of those hurried, wanton kisses and intoxicating eyes locked, nose to nose, too close for ease, too far for comfort. 

“I haven’t finished,” she gasped, breathless in the wake of those kisses, the teasing flicker of her eyes as wanting as his own. 

He groaned, wanting it over with, wanting this tortuous disrobing done with just a thought. Yet he had promised her she could undress her commander, and he had always been a man of his word. With an effort of will that would have impressed his trainers when he was still a teenager, he pushed back from her, letting his hands fall to his sides once again. There wasn’t much to do now. _Thank the Maker …_

Oh, she was temptation made flesh, a greater pleasure than any a demon could offer him because she was _real_ , the reward was _real_ , and all he had to do was be patient for just a little while longer. But she was not going to make it easy for him. 

That beautiful mouth of hers began at the hollow of his throat, teasing her way with lips and teeth and tongue, down over the taut, tense planes of his chest, over the hint of softness creeping in at his stomach … nuzzling to the aching throb of his desire still trapped beneath layers of leather and cloth as she found a place on her knees before him. He felt himself tremble as her breath warmed the twitch of his cock, unable to keep his hand from pouring through the tresses that crowned her head, from pressing her face just that little bit closer as those deft, clever fingers of hers undid the buckles of his greaves, already loosening the laces of his boots as the last clatter of plate armor fell away from his body. One boot, then the next, and all the while, she purred against the hardening bulge of his imprisoned cock, knowing exactly what she was doing, exactly what the vibration of her voice and the heat of her breath and the wicked stroke of her mouth through leather and linen was doing to him.

When his bare feet were finally freed, she didn’t remove her face from that intimate contact, raising her hands above her forehead to tug the laces of his pants loose, drawing back only far enough to peel the leather from his hips and plant a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the straining girth barely contained by his smalls as she guided his legs from the confining leather that had never felt so tight about his flesh as it did when she was in _this_ mood. He groaned her name, his patience finally at an end, and with strong, gentle hands dragged her up to claim her mouth for his own all over again, bearing her back this time to the solid embrace of the bed. Her arms, her legs, wrapped about him, gathering him close, only the linen of his smalls separating the thrust of his cock from the slick velvet of her cunt as they fell together to the furs that covered the bed, trading sloppy kisses and eager sighs. A last fumbling divested him of that barrier, and _there_ was his reward, in the sweet longing cry that fell from her lips as he drove deep inside her, in the arch of her back and the grip of her hands and the knowledge that finally the game was over. 

He grinned against the smooth column of her throat as she came apart all too soon, reveling in the flex and clench and quiver of the woman he loved at the first deep contact of the long night ahead.

He might have to let her undress the commander again some time.


End file.
